Omnia Vincit Amor
by Navybee
Summary: A Daddy!Cas drabble. Rated T just in case.


Okay, so this is really crappy because I'm a 17-year-old who sucks at English (not speaking it, but the school subject) and never writes stories, but whatevs...

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. This is purely for my own enjoyment. I make no profit.

"OMNIA VINCIT AMOR"

"Dean." His voice was hoarser than usual, as if getting that one word through his lips was a physical strain. "What should I do?"

It was the first time in years, if not ever, that San and Dean Winchester's experience in a hospital was not a bad one. The two brothers stood at the foot of a bed, their focus not on its occupant but rather the angel sitting in the corner of the room. Castiel's uncomfort with the situation was obvious, a fearful expression not unlike the one induced by his presence in a "den of iniquity" several years earlier plastered on his face. His posture was rigid, arms folded awkwardly across his chest as they supported a small, squirming bundle.

"Nothing. You're doing fine, pal." As comical as Dean Winchester found Cas' present condition, he smiled in encouragement as his friend looked pleadingly up at him. Hell, this is more than comical, Dean thought. It's just plain weird. The older brother was still having difficulty grasping the fact that Castiel was no longer a virgin, that an Angel of the Lord _got laid_.

"Yeah, Cas," Sam added, "you're a natural."

Their was a uneasy silence then, the inaccuracy of that comment hanging in the air. No one was sure what to say. This wasn't a situation into which any of them had ever expected to be put. Sam looked to him for help. Dean just shrugged.

"So, uh, what's his name, Cas?"

"What?" The angel stared straight ahead, eyes glassy. Not once had his gaze drifted down to the child in his arms.

"The baby," Sam clarified. "Have you chosen a name?"

"His name is Luke. It was her brother's name." Castiel's glance flickered to the bed. The blanketed form of Josephine was still. She was sound asleep.

"Luke, huh?" Dean smirked. "Where's Leia?" He looked around the room, feining confusion.

Castiel huffed, and turned back to Dean. Frustration evident on his face and in his voice, he said, "Dean, neither I, nor the baby, understand your references to 'pop culture'." He hesitated on the last two words, struggling to wrap his head around the term.

Dean raised his hands in defence. "I know, I know—"

"Then why do you insist on constantly—"

"Just relax, Cas," Sam interjected, trying to ease the tension building between the two others.

Castiel sighed. "Today I have been hit, yelled at, covered in blood and other bodily fluids of which I do not know the names—"

Dean chuckled. "Ah, the beauty of childbirth."

"—and now I am stuck with this completely dependent being that is even more socially inept than I."

"Cas, that's because it's a _baby_."

"Please, Sam, I don't need your patronism," Cas said.

"Yeah, Sam," Dean mocked. Sam punched his shoulder in retaliation.

"Shut up, jerk."

"Bitch."

When the brothers' playful banter died down, Dean's attention returned to the the stressed out angel, who was now staring down at the baby in bewilderment, as if still trying to process its existence. "What we're trying to say, Cas, is that you should show a little emotion. This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life."

"I never planned for this."

"Yeah, well, not many people _do_..."

Castiel was quiet for a moment, before the frightened, deer-in-the-headlights look returned. "I read the baby books, Dean." He gulped. "They warn of excrement." A pause. "From both ends."

They spent the next 15 or so minutes talking about babies, not that Sam or Dean had much experience in that particular department, trying to prep Cas for parenthood and reassure him that nothing could be as hard as stopping the Apocalypse. Their attempts didn't seem to have much effect, though. In fact, Castiel was becoming more and more disheartened.

"You say I ought to be joyous and love this child, for a child is part of oneself, their flesh and blood."

"Exactly." Dean was relieved that the angel was finally starting to get it.

"But this is not my child."

Looks like a was wrong, Dean thought."But, Cas, you said—"

"I am not its father. Jimmy is."

The sadness in Castiel's voice was unmistakable as his true concerns were revealed. He was inexperienced with children, yes, and hadn't the faintest clue about what raising one required, but that was not what really troubled him. He knew he could learn to understand their odd language of gurgles and nonsyllabic cries. After all, had he not mastered the use of a phone? Could he not handle a shot-gun? No, it was the fact that the face Luke would come to call "father" was not his own that disturbed Castiel the most. And why shouldn't that be so? He asked himself sorrowfully. Biologically, the child _was_ in fact Jimmy's. The angel had no claim to it whatsoever.

Then why do I feel an overwhelming urge to protect it? This irrational possessiveness?

"Well, you're the one who,uh...did the deed, Cas," Sam offered when the angel voiced his confusion. "In some way, that makes him yours. I mean, without you, he'd never have been conceived."

Castiel mulled over the point for a moment, before slowly nodding his head. "I...suppose that's logical."

A nurse entered the room then—visiting hours were up, much to everyone's relief. It wasn't that Sam and Dean disliked in any way spending time with Cas and the newest addition to their unconventional "family", but both brothers could see how strenuous the day had been for their feathery friend. If angels actually slept, Castiel looked as though he could sleep for three days straight. His hair was a mess, his trenchcoat creased all over and his shoulders starting to droop.

"We, uh, better let you get some rest now," Dean said. He really did feel bad leaving Cas in such an unsure and dispirited state, but, hey, that nurse was giving him the creeps. She was definitely not of the good kind—young, hot and flirty—but rather old, unnatractive and extremely impatient. "We'll come back tomorrow, okay?" He gave Cas a quick pat on the shoulder. The angel managed an appreciative smile and a gravelly, "Goodnight, both of you."

Just as he reached the door, Dean turned back. "Oh, and, Cas?"

Castiel looked up, slightly perplexed. "Yes, Dean?"

"It's 'him'."

"What?" Okay, now the angel was just plain confuzzled. Yes, that's correct term for it, he thought smugly to himself. While spending months sitting through whole seasons of television shows with Josephine he'd learnt that the idiom was a combination of "confused" and "puzzled". Although he saw little difference in meaning between the two words, their amalgamation seemed apt to describe the feeling that Dean's odd remark had just evoked.

"The baby. All day you've been referring to him as 'it'. But he's not an object or an animal—Hell, even animals have genders! Cas, he's a person. He's your _son_. So saying 'he' or 'him' is a little more appropriate, dontcha think?"

"Right." Castiel nodded firmly. "I shall endeavour to remember that."

Dean smirked. "You do that, Cas. And if you need anything, just call."

With that the older Winchester was gone, leaving Castiel the only conscious being in the room. He stared down at the baby in his arms, watching his small chest move up and down with each intake and outtake of breath. He reached slowly for the delicate arm protruding from the blue blankets and as his finger made contact with Luke's palm, the child's tiny hand clenched around it. He wasn't sure why, but this small movement filled Castiel with an overwhelming sense of pride. Dean's words echoed in his mind. "He's your son". The angel smiled. _My son_, he thought, the realisation of that fact finally sinking in. As it did, tranquility washed over him. Castiel knew being a father would not be easy—Dean's relationship with John and his own with God were evidence enough of the complexity of filial bonds—but he also knew that he would do whatever was necessary to keep Luke safe. The child was _his, _and as such he would love him, just as any other father loved his son. It mattered not that he was of a different species. As long as he loved Luke, Castiel knew that somehow, everything would be okay.

After all, he wasn't alone. He had Sam and Dean, and Bobby.

And Josephine. The thought of her made the angel's spirits soar. Never had he known a creature capable of such gentleness and strength. She had opened up to him a whole new world of emotions, so profound that if breathing were a necessity, Castiel was sure he would experience difficulty in carrying out the action. Life with Sam and Dean had exposed him to the unbreakable bond of brotherhood, but in Josephine he had found a companion incomparable to anyone else. She was not just a friend, but a lover, filling a position in Castiel's life and heart that Dean, as close as the two were, never could.

Together, Castiel knew they could get through anything. Having survived the horrors of the past 9 months, the next 21 years were going to be...what was it? A piece of cake.

Right?

He moved to the seat beside the bed, carefully shifting Luke so the baby was balanced in just one of his arms. His now free hand reached out to hold one of Josephine's, and his thumb began softly tracing circles on her skin. It was like this—his son cradled against his chest and girlfriend sleeping peacefully by his side—that Castiel allowed his eyes to drift close. Relaxing his body in preparation for mimicking the act of slumber, two words reverberated through his mind:

_My family._


End file.
